Nostalgia

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I’m Responsible for My Son’s “Good Old Days”

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One advantage of getting to review cars for this blog is that I get free access to XM radio. I’ve been flipping back and forth between XMU (rock music for college kids) and Alt Nation (modern alternative rock).

I recently was introduced to a perfectly nostalgic song called “Stressed Out” by Twenty One Pilots. My favorite part of the song contains these lyrics:

“Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days
When our momma sang us to sleep but now were stressed out”

Somewhat surprisingly, until I heard that song a couple of weeks ago, I had never truly fathomed that those “good old days” I myself lived through in the 1980s, some of the warmest and fuzziest moments and memories in my life, occurred only because of my parents.

Flash forward from 1985, when I myself was 4 years old, to 2015; now my own son is 4 years old.

My son lives in a wonderland of stuffed animals as friends; a land where monster trucks are a legitimate means of transportation… and where he can typically get away with eating mac-and-cheese for most of his meals as long as he eats his veggie-fruit pouch.

He lives in this wonderland in 2015 because of his mommy and me.

And I lived in that wonderland in 1985 because of my own parents.

It takes a good parent to create that wonderland for their own kid; which I assume if you are reading this now, then you must be one as well. Granted, providing a loving home is ultimately all it really takes to make that wonderland.

A child’s imagination takes care of the rest; as long as that child feels loved and cared for and listened to and played with and encouraged.

No matter which toys make up that wonderland, no matter how big or small the house is, and no matter how many other kids are in the wonderland in that big or small house with a lot or little toys… all that matters is that there is obvious love in that household.

That’s what creates “the good old” days for the kids we bring into this world.

It’s that simple, yet that epic:

I am responsible for my son’s “good old days.” All I have to do is simply love my son, something I am completely wired to do anyway.

And yet I never think about the sacrifices I make in my life to love him. And I’m pretty sure my own parents never did either when they were raising me.

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Dear Jack: You’re Not Growing Up Way Too Fast

4 years, 8 months.

The Reason You’re Not Growing Up Too Fast

Dear Jack,

I’ve never felt that you are growing up too quickly. I think you’re growing up at exactly the right speed.

The metronome in my head works just fine as it measures at what rate you should graduate across the sliding scale of baby to boy.

Maybe a good reason I feel this way is that I’ve written at least one blog post and/or letter to or about you since before you were born. That’s more than 5 years now!

There are now hundreds of stories and pictures of your life story that I have preserved in time. (And they all can be retrieved by clicking on the Blog Archives tab on the left side of the screen.)

So maybe I am the exception to the rule of feeling my kid is growing up too fast. I never find myself missing any younger version of you. I have warm nostalgic thoughts about those days, but I don’t miss them.

Because I so appreciate who you are now.

You’re perfect. You’re exactly everything I could possibly hope for in a son.

You are a beautiful, intelligent, and creative young boy.

It is a gift each day that I get to see who you are becoming.

Maybe I’m being too pragmatic here, but if I really wanted to relive the “baby days”, I should focus getting you a brother or sister…

That seems like the best way to relive that time period, but at the same time be able to appreciate the nearly 5 year-old boy you are.

But no, you’re not growing up too quickly for me.

You’re my genius son who just entered his Lego creations into the upcoming county fair. But you’re also down-to-Earth enough that you fully appreciated the “pooping moose” key chain I brought back from Grand Rapids this week as a souvenir.

Love,

Daddy

j1

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Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

4 years, 1 month.

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

Dear Jack,

This year for Christmas, it worked out for our family to spend about 5 days at my parents’ house in Fort Payne, Alabama.

So last Tuesday after I got off work, and after you and Mommy had visited both Primrose and Rainbow daycare facilities as we decide which one to transfer you to once we move into our new house in a month (our closing date is exactly a month from today), we loaded up the 2014 Lexus LX 570 and made our way across the Tennessee state line.

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

After we settled in that night (December 23rd), I noticed something:

The Christmas tree’s ornaments serve as a 1980s time capsule.

Those ornaments mainly consist of decorations collected during my childhood.

There are crocheted ornaments clearly displaying the year “1987” on them. There is also an array of ornaments I made in school and church, from 1987 to 1991.

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

In fact, the one from 1987, where I am sitting on (a very lousy looking) Santa, features me wearing a McDonald’s sweat suit.

The irony is very present; never knowing back then that I would eventually become a vegan, nor would I have been able really understand what that word even meant back then.

I also noticed a 25 year-old egg shell ornament. Back in 3rd grade, for Christmas 1989, I had made an ornament in Mrs. Lawrence’s class, where we all brought in an egg, poked it with a needle to drain it, then covered it in sparkles, a sticker, and some glue.

Somewhat miraculously, than 25 year-old egg has never cracked or shattered!

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

I also laughed when I saw the Star of David made out of tongue depressors. It helps explain why I always sort of assumed we were Jewish.

And don’t forget the bubble lights! It’s amazing those things still work…

The next morning on Christmas Eve (December 24th), your cousin Calla came over and the two of you both got to open one present early.

She got a Play-Doh factory and you got a really cool Lego set that was a tree house; which contained a Lego treasure map and a pizza!

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

It’s a bit of a blur, but at some point while your Uncle Andrew helped you build the new Lego set, I ended up wearing the top part of a broken sombrero that I think my Great-aunt Jennie had bought for me as a souvenir while visiting Mexico, where her parents were born.

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

You were pleasantly surprised when you discovered a Brother Bear figurine of the Berentstain Bears (from a McDonald’s Happy Meal); being that you had just watched on the DVD on the drive there in the car, on the Lexus LX’s built-in system.

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

So I guess it’s safe to say in addition to the Christmas tree’s ornaments serving as a 1980’s time capsule, my overflowing collection of McDonald’s Happy Meal toys helped add to that undeniable sense of nostalgia at your Nonna and Papa’s house.

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

Just check out that ice cream cone that transforms into a robot!

Love,

Daddy

Dear Jack: My Childhood Christmas Tree, The 1980s Time Capsule

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Dear Jack: You Now Can Remember Your “Past Life” As A Baby

3 years, 11 months.

Dear Jack: You Now Can Remember Your “Past Life” As A Baby

Dear Jack,

Here lately, you’ve been asking me questions when you were a baby. I’ve determined that your definition of “baby” basically means any time before you were 3 years old.

Given that your 4th birthday is coming up next weekend; that means that the last year of your life, the year between age 3 and age 4, is the part you’ve lived as a “boy.”

Again, this is all your thinking, not mine. I’ve learned this by you calling any other kid under the age of 3 a baby.

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So in essence, you are asking questions about your “past life”… I was there for all of it, documenting it the whole time. As for you, you mainly only remember the events from the most recent 25% of your life.

Dear Jack: You Now Can Remember Your “Past Life” As A Baby

For example, you obviously still remember your friend Sophie; she moved away in February.

But as for Henry, you’re clueless. Many playdates took place. There were countless hours together at your school.

Yet the only reference you have of him is after the fact; pictures and videos that I took of you two.

Dear Jack: You Now Can Remember Your “Past Life” As A Baby

Of course, I fully recognize that this most recent 25% of your life will eventually become the oldest 25%, getting blurrier as each year passes.

In the end, you’ll only remember a portion of this past year which you can currently recall very well.

Like this- will you remember the days when you’d visit our next door neighbor Rachel and her pet cat after school?

Because those are things are going on in your life right now.

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Will you remember drawing your awesome pictures of monster trucks then asking Mommy and me to cut them out and hang on the fridge?

As for me, I serve witness to these memories which will mostly be forgotten by you. And since I’m taking good notes, you’ll always have a portal to the past for any day you want to travel time.

I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll even show you.

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: Determining What Is Age Appropriate Versus What Is Just Okay

I mentioned a few weeks ago in my review of Planes: Fire & Rescue that Mommy and I were planning to take you to the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie when it came out in August. (Which was yesterday, August 8th.)

new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie review

Well, the time has come, yet we’re not taking you to see it this weekend. That’s because I realized the movie is rated PG-13, not PG; you’re not even 4 years old yet.

(Not to mention, the new Ninja Turtles movie isn’t getting good reviews either.)

At first I tried to convince myself it would be okay; after all, it’s just the Ninja Turtles!

But after having recently seen and reviewed X-Men: Days Of Future Past as well as Guardians Of The Galaxy, I predict that the new Ninja Turtles movie would simply be too intense for you at this age.

Like those other PG-13 nostalgic movies, I’m sure there will be no explicit violence, but I assume the level of action will be much more intense than what you see while watching Power Rangers on Netflix.

Therefore, I think we’ll check out the new Paddington movie coming out in a few months. That seems a lot more appropriate for you at this age.

I’ve been noticing that’s a new theme for me these days in “daddyhood.”

The question: What is age appropriate for you versus what is simply just okay?

For example, a couple of weeks ago I heard you randomly say, “This isn’t WrestleMania! That’s what my teacher Ms. Michelle says.”

That prompted me to show you a classic 1988 WrestleMania match. You were into it, but haven’t wanted to watch anymore of it since then.

You’d rather watch Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood instead.

So that’s what I’m accepting: While something like classic WrestleMania or the new Ninja Turtles movie may be okay for you to watch, it’s doesn’t mean it’s necessarily age appropriate.

This morning as you and Mommy left the house to go buy groceries, your departure song was “God Is Bigger Than the Boogie Man.”

Looks like VeggieTales is more your speed right now. That’s fine by me.

Love,

Daddy